


(I Need) Seven Minutes With You

by nothingwithoutyouxo



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, House Party, M/M, Party Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 02:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15653637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingwithoutyouxo/pseuds/nothingwithoutyouxo
Summary: There was nothing Bobby Maler liked more than causing drama, so of course the idea for them all to play Seven Minutes In Heaven had been his idea. The only issue was that it was probably going to turn into a complete disaster.





	(I Need) Seven Minutes With You

**Author's Note:**

> A few months ago I wrote a Spin The Bottle AU for these two, so it felt right to write another for a different cliche party game that happens on every teen show ever. They're all like 16/17 in this so if you squint there's technically some underage drinking. 
> 
> The Jonas Brothers have a song on their first album called '6 minutes' and we're all going to pretend that it's called 7 minutes for the sake of this fic because I warped the lyrics for the title.

It wasn’t a complete disaster and that was the strangest part about it. It had been Bobby’s idea, because of course it had. There was nothing Bobby Maler liked more than making other people uncomfortable and causing drama at the same time. Some of the pairings hadn’t been too bad. There’d been Hanschen and Ilse who’d come out of the closet almost crying with laughter. Ernst and Martha, which Ernst said only confirmed for him that he was, in fact, incredibly gay. Max and Otto had been kind of strange but they were both drunk enough that it didn’t matter. The issue now was that there was an unmistakable evil glint in Bobby’s eye as he scanned the room for his next victims.

  
  
“Melchior,” he drawled, tipsy enough that his words were slowing down. “You haven’t been yet, have you?”

  
  
Melchior just rolled his eyes at that. “Alright, Maler. Do you worst.” He regretted the statement as soon as he said it because Bobby lit up in a way that he hadn’t yet, which could only mean one thing.

  
  
His eyes scanned the room even though pretty much everyone already knew who he was going to pick. “Moritz. You’re up.”

  
  
Moritz shook his head. “I’m not playing,” he replied.

  
  
“My party. My rules. Everyone’s playing.”

  
  
His eyes flicked quickly to Melchior who just shrugged. He wondered why Melchior wasn’t as bothered by this as he was. He guessed that in the end it wouldn’t be something that mattered. It was just a game. It meant nothing. Then why did Moritz want to barrell out of the room as quickly as he could?

  
  
“Seven minutes!” Bobby called. “Have fun!”

  
  
The closet was big enough that Moritz was sure they’d find Narnia if they looked hard enough. They might not even need to look that hard. He could see the lamp post now. Melchior didn’t so much as move and Moritz wasn’t sure what to do. At least, he knew what he was _supposed_ to do, but that wasn’t something that he was allowing himself to think about. He was trying to ignore it entirely.

  
  
“Are you enjoying yourself at least?” Melchior asked.

  
  
Moritz could have laughed. Trust Melchior to try and make small talk at a time like this. “Sure,” he said. “I love being forced into a closet with my best friend for seven minutes. Really reminds me of home.”

  
  
Moritz didn’t have to see his face to know that Melchior would grimace at that. He almost regretted the statement. “I dunno. I thought it would be less awkward with me?”

  
  
He wished that it was.

  
  
“We don’t have to do anything,” he continued. “There’s no way they could know.”

  
  
He should have been grateful for that, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He guessed that he appreciated the sentiment. “You’re being awfully calm about this,” he muttered. The song that was playing outside was slowly fading into another. That must have meant it had been almost three minutes already. Maybe this would pass quickly.

  
  
Melchior thought about the way his heart was racing in his chest. How even though it was pitch black he could sense where Moritz was in front of him, every nerve in his body on fire because of it. “Am I?” If Moritz noticed that his voice came out higher than usual, he didn’t mention it.

  
  
“I guess this isn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.” Was he really going to pass up an opportunity like this? When else would he get to do this with Melchior? Get to _be_ like this with him? Moritz shook his head, expelling the thoughts. It wasn’t something that could happen.

  
  
Melchior wished that he could hear what they were talking about outside but this closet was old and the wood was heavy enough that it almost worked as a sound barrier. He swallowed, pulled at his shirt absently because fuck it was hot in here.

  
  
“You ok?” Moritz asked. He could hear Melchior fidgeting and that was never something that he did.

  
  
“Yeah. Fine. It’s just kinda ... muggy in here.”

  
  
Oh, so it wasn’t just him. Melchior could feel that too. “Must be the thick wood.”

  
  
The sentence itself made complete sense but for some reason Melchior started laughing anyway. It was completely immature to do so, but it just sounded so strange coming from Moritz.

  
  
It didn’t take long for Moritz to start laughing as well. He guessed, it _was_ a pretty weird thing to say. For a moment the strain they were under faded away.

  
  
Melchior seemed to remember his phone and checked it absently. “One minute,” he said.

  
  
Suddenly, Moritz was struggling again. He felt kind of light headed, acutely aware of everything around him and the voices outside. “Should we tell ghost stories?” he asked, hoping it would make Melchior laugh again.

  
  
It did. Melchior had never been more grateful for Moritz’s sense of humour. Even if it was only aiding in making his heart race. He checked his phone again. “Alright, Maler, it’s been 7 minutes!” he called out.

  
  
“You two aren’t getting out until something happens in there!” he yelled back.

  
  
Melchior was definitely going to tear into him when he got of here. “That’s not in the fucking rules -“

  
  
He didn’t have time to finish his sentence because suddenly he was being kissed. Moritz had moved without him noticing, and had crushed their lips together, hands against Melchior’s neck. Melchior reciprocated immediately, grabbing onto him and kissing back with just as much force. And there was force, it wasn’t something that he usually associated with Moritz but it was there. He wasn’t sure if it was an accident or not but he felt Moritz pull at his hair and _fuck_. He keep pulling Moritz in by his waist, closer and closer so that now Moritz was basically in his lap but it wasn’t close enough. Wasn’t close enough at all, but before he could even form a coherent thought Moritz was pulling away again and he wanted to tell him not to, but Melchior didn’t seem to have control of his voice in that moment.

  
  
“If you don’t open this door, Bobby, I’m gonna fucking burst through it!” There must have been an edge to his voice that wasn’t usually there because the door was pulled open and Moritz was scrambling out, not looking back at Melchior. He was sure that he was going to pass out. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the room, just left as quickly as he could.

  
  
“Need a hand there, Gabor.” Bobby was being so cocky about this that Melchior wished he could punch him the face, but he didn’t think he had the energy. He couldn’t even breathe.

  
  
“Fuck you, Maler,” he managed as he forced himself out of the closet. His eyes scanned the room for Moritz but he was already gone. He made to leave, to follow after him, but felt someone grab onto his arm. He turned to see Ilse next to him.

  
  
“He’s going to need a minute,” she said. “Let him go.”

  
  
Melchior felt light headed. She was right. He couldn’t doubt that whatever _that_ was, it would have been a lot for him. As he continued to look at her he realised that he had a question for her, something that was pulling at him so insistently he had no idea why he hadn’t noticed it before. “Did you know that I -“

  
  
He didn’t need to finish. Ilse was already nodding. “Of course I knew. I know everything about you.”

  
  
She paused for a moment. There was chatter around them. Melchior couldn’t hear any of it. It all sounded like white noise to him, the hum of voices but nothing really distinguishing them from each other.

  
  
“Do you need a drink?” she asked.

  
  
Melchior shook his head. “I think that made me drunk enough.”

  
  
She smirked. “You know that was kind of smooth.”

 

***

 

“Moritz!” Ernst called into the night. With one look at just how shaken he was, and a nod from Ilse, he’d sped off after his friend. Moritz had never really been a fast runner, but when he felt like he was trapped he defied just about any expectations people had for him. Ernst knew that he had to catch up so that Moritz didn’t have a breakdown over this. He wondered briefly, why the hell he didn’t step in, why he’d let Bobby do this. If he made it back to the party, Ernst was sure that he would definitely have a few words with him.

  
  
Moritz knew that his breathing was coming far too quickly for it to be healthy. Everything felt like too much, even the air felt too thick. He stopped, having reached the edge of Bobby’s front lawn. He didn’t particularly want to run out into the street so he waited for Ernst to catch up and tried to remind himself that he needed to breathe, needed to count, needed to calm down. At least it had been Ernst that followed him. He was sure that he’d never be able to look Melchior in the eye again. He tried to ignore how sad that thought made him.

 

As Ernst reached him, he immediately grabbed on Moritz’s shoulders to help ground him. He seemed to be halfway to a panic attack and something like this really wasn’t worth all that effort. One of Moritz’s hands snaked around his wrist and he tried to think of something to say to make this better. “Talk to me,” he settled on.

 

Moritz closed his eyes and tried his best to focus on steadying his breathing. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 _breathe in_ . 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 _breathe out_. When he finally felt like he could see straight and not pass out, he opened his eyes and looked at Ernst again, who was waiting patiently for him to speak. Moritz wasn’t sure what to say, but he found his voice anyway. “I kissed him,” he muttered.

  
  
Ernst tried his absolute hardest to fight off the smile that was threatening him. “Yeah?” he replied.

 

Moritz could see that little sparkle in his eye, he’d roll his if he had the energy for it.

 

“How was it?”

  
  
His mind flashed back to Melchior’s breath catching in his throat the second he kissed him, his words failing him for probably the first time in his life. He thought about Melchior pulling him closer, his hands holding so tightly to the back of Moritz’s shirt. The feeling of Melchior’s hair between his fingers. He had to stop himself because his heart was speeding up again and he couldn’t do this. Not here. Not ever.

  
  
“Don’t worry, that’s all the answer I need,” Ernst teased.

  
  
Moritz crumpled, let Ernst pull him into a hug and tried his best to not let his thoughts stray back to someone else.

 

***

 

Melchior knew that the two of them needed to talk about it. It was the only logical way to move forward passed this, to make things normal again. Except for the fact that Melchior wasn’t sure if he could go back to normal. He’d felt something in that moment with Moritz, and he didn’t know if it was something he could just put aside. He’d always been awful at expressing his emotions, awful at telling people how he felt. It was something he tried to avoid for the most part, relying on the fact that most of his friends just _understood_ him without the need for an explanation. He knew that this wasn’t something he could just brush aside so easily, not like he usually would. Which left him in a horrible position. He hadn’t spoken to Moritz since the party, hadn’t texted him at all, and he knew it was something he should have done but he just had no idea what to say to him. Moritz must have felt the same because Melchior hadn’t heard from him either.

 

It got worse when they went back to school. They usually walked together, their houses were only a few blocks away from each other so Melchior would leave a little earlier and pick up Moritz on the way through, but he’d received a very vague text from Wendla on Sunday night telling him not to do that. She also wouldn’t let him press her for more answers which somehow made it harder to deal with. He’d been hopeful that he’d at least get to see Moritz on Monday, that they could talk everything out then, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t even sure if Moritz was going to school at all. He didn’t see him all week. Moritz skipped all the classes they had together and if he _was_ there then he didn’t sit with the group at lunch either. It was getting harder from Melchior to bare.

 

On Friday he decided to isolate himself from the group as well. As nice as it was to be around his friends, their happy chatter and laughter didn’t soothe his soul in the way that he was used to. In fact, for whatever reason, it seemed to put him more on edge. It was like he could feel the weight of Moritz’s empty seat, the absence pressing against his chest and making it harder to breathe. It made it impossible for him not to think about the last time he’d had trouble breathing, and he forced his thoughts in circles. It wasn’t like he could contribute anything of value to the conversation they were having in this state, so he’d chosen to sit by himself just for today. He was sure they would understand.

 

Melchior didn’t look up as someone came to sit next to him. He knew it was Hanschen, could tell by the distinct smell of old leather. They’d never quite figured out what it was, but he wouldn’t have put it passed Hanschen to already be wearing some kind of cologne. It _was_ a step up from most of the other boys at school. He didn’t say anything, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hanschen fold his hands against the table, tapping in a slow melodic pattern. Melchior waited for him to speak.

 

“So what _did_ happen in that closet? Because I have heard some incredible variations to the tale.”

 

Melchior wished that he could bite back with something akin to the usual banter that he and Hanschen held between them, but he just felt so drained that he decided to tell the truth instead. “He kissed me.”

 

Hanschen nodded. “Good for him.”

 

“It was …” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence but Hanschen seemed to get the message because he nodded again. He swallowed, tried not to think about it anymore than that.

 

Hanschen shifted next to him, turning slightly to face him which forced Melchior to look up. “Look, we both know you’re truly horrible at emotional stuff.”

 

“Wow, thanks.”

 

The ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Moritz knows you,” he continued, “most likely better than all of us. He’s not expecting this to be an easy conversation. Why do you think he’s avoiding it?”

 

He was right. Moritz always avoided things that were hard for him to deal with. It was just his way. “Do you think he felt it too?” he asked. It was an absolutely ridiculous question to ask, especially since he was asking Hanschen of all people, but somehow he’d found himself in need of the reassurance.

 

“He was the one that kissed you, right?”

 

It was the perfect answer, but it didn’t help as much he needed it to. Melchior ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “This would all be great if I could actually find him.”

 

“Well, you didn’t hear this from me, but if you’re lucky you might be able to catch him in the art room with Ernst.”

 

Melchior shot up at that. He could have hugged him, and if he was anyone else he probably would have. “Hanschen, thank you,” he muttered.

 

Hanschen rolled his eyes at that, flicked at his nails absently. “Get out of here, Gabor.”

 

***

 

While he still had absolutely no idea what he was going to say to Moritz, just the thought of seeing him alone was somehow all-consuming. The halls were quiet, pretty much everyone was in the cafeteria at this time so it gave him time to think. The issue was that he wasn’t thinking of words in the way that he should have been. He was just thinking about Moritz and how ridiculous it was that it took the likes of Bobby fucking Maler for him to realise just how much he loved him. Somehow he knew that it was something he was never going to live down. As he approached the art room he saw Ernst coming out of the door. Hanschen must have texted him that Melchior was on his way. He was giving him and Moritz a moment alone.

 

“Bathroom break,” he smiled, patting Melchior on the shoulder as he reached him. “You’re going to be ok.”

 

Melchior wished he could thank him but his voice wasn’t ready to comply. He could tell that Ernst understood anyway.

 

As he reached the door to the art room, he paused for a moment. His mind was a blank canvas, absolutely nothing springing forward. Well, he was just going to have to wing this. He pulled the door open.

 

“Ok that was way too quick what the hell - oh,” Moritz stopped when he noticed it was Melchior he was talking to and not Ernst.

 

Melchior could feel his heart already racing in his chest and wondered when it had started doing that when it came to Moritz. “Hey,” he managed.

 

“Hey.” Moritz wasn’t looking at him, instead looking down at whatever book was resting on his desk. Maybe someone had been passing him the work he’d been missing out on that week.

 

He wished that he knew what he was doing. That he had any clue what he was supposed to say next. He crossed the room, pulling up a chair from the table across from Moritz and waited to see if he would look up at him.

 

He didn’t, but Melchior could tell that he wasn’t focusing on the work he’d been doing either. He was practically staring holes into the pages.

 

“We need to talk about it,” he said. That seemed like a good place to start.

 

“Talk about what?” There was an edge to his voice, the same edge that he remembered being there when he’d yelled at Bobby to open the door that night. “There’s nothing to talk about, Melchior. Bobby randomly picked us out of everyone in the room. It was just a fucking party game.” Moritz’s eyes flicked to him for the last part of his sentence, and from the little that Melchior saw, he could tell that Moritz didn’t believe that at all.

 

 _Bold of you to assume Bobby didn’t have at least three ulterior motives_ , he thought. He moved his chair closer. He was sure that being closer to Moritz would only scatter his thoughts even more, but it had to help somehow. Maybe in showing how serious he was. “Moritz -”

 

“Look, Melchior. I’m not in love with you, ok? Whatever you think this - it was it’s not that. I did what I had to do.”

 

Melchior took a deep breath. Moritz had the tendency to use his anger to deflect when he was upset. In the past it had been something that had made Melchior angry too, something that they’d clashed over more than once. He stayed quiet for a moment, going over the words he was going to say next in his head. Well, this was it. “Maybe not, but I am.”

 

Moritz laughed at that, sharp and impulsive. “Yeah, we all know that you’ve been in love with yourself for the longest time.”

 

This was hard. Feelings were hard. Punching a tipsy Bobby Maler would have been easier. Why hadn’t he done that instead? At least he knew that Moritz didn’t mean it. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

He paused, suddenly very still and Melchior thought for a moment that he’d gotten through, but Moritz was an expert at putting up walls when he wanted to. Building them continuously so that there was always one you had to tear down. When he spoke, his voice was softer, his new wall only half-built this time. “Bobby really got to you, huh? Seven minutes alone with me and you think you love me.”

 

His next words came easier to him. “It was never just those seven minutes.”

 

Moritz swallowed, took a shaky breath, and Melchior was worried that he was going to start crying, but he didn’t. He just stayed very quiet and Melchior let him, knowing that he needed to process what he’d said and all of this.

 

It wasn’t really a position that he’d thought he would find himself in, but the more he thought about it the more he realised that it had always been Moritz. He just wished he wasn’t so dense that it took a cliche party game for him to figure it out. Ilse was going to make jokes about this for the rest of forever. After a few minutes, when Moritz still hadn’t said anything, Melchior thought that he would try again. “Moritz, I’m sorry. I know I’m probably going about this the wrong -”

 

For the second time in a week, Melchior wasn’t able to finish his sentence because Moritz kissed him. He had no idea if this was some kind of habit that he was building, but a part of him wished that it was. He knew that he talk far too much anyway, everyone told him so. This was a much better alternative. He wrapped his arms around Moritz instinctively and pulled him closer. When Moritz pulled away, he was shaking.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered.

 

Melchior shook his head. “Please don’t be.”

 

Moritz nodded, pulled his chair closer so their knees were now pressed together. “So what do we do now?” he asked.

 

“Date me,” Melchior said, before he could stop himself. The way Moritz laughed at it made it worth it. “I mean, if you want to.”

 

Moritz looked at him for a moment, pulled Melchior’s hands into his own. “I want to.”

 

His heart stuttered, and then continued racing and Melchior was sure that it was something he’d be happy to deal with.

 

“This is what you want right?”

 

He nodded. “Very much so.”

 

Moritz just smiled at that, finally seemingly able to relax. Melchior was about to kiss him when the art room door popped open with a large crash. The two of them looked up to see Ernst fall to the floor. To his credit, he seemed to recover quickly, jumping up again and smiling at the two of them.

 

“Afternoon, lads,” he said, as if he’d just strolled in here of his own accord.

 

“The thing about that door is if you lean against it too hard the lock pops,” Moritz smirked.

 

Melchior bit down hard on his lip so that he didn’t laugh at the look on Ernst’s face at being called out.

 

“We all learn something.” He paused for a moment, his eyes flicking between them. “So are you two ...?”

 

Moritz looked over at him, a bright smile lighting up his face. Melchior squeezed his hands. “Yeah, I think so.”

 

Ernst looked towards the roof, his hands clapped in front of him as if in prayer. “Guess who’s finally going to have enough money to pre-order the new Pokemon game. Praise be.” Then, just as quickly as he’d come, Ernst dashed out the door again.

 

Melchior wasn’t entirely sure what happened but Moritz was laughing which must have meant something. “What was that?” he asked.

 

“Oh, nothing,” he replied. “Just some bet money or something.”

 

“Wait, bet money?”

 

Moritz shrugged. “Yeah, we’re, uh, kind of a popular concept.”

 

Melchior had no idea what to think of that. “You knew about it?” he asked.

 

“I’m, um, not subtle, I guess,” he explained, not quite looking at him.

 

If Moritz wasn’t subtle then that must have meant Melchior was even more dense then he’d originally thought. Well, that kind of made him feel awful. “I’m sorry that I found out like this.”

 

“Honestly, they’d pass bet money across the table whether you were there or not. They’re not really subtle either.”

 

“No, not about that about,” Melchior squeezed his hands that he realised he was still holding.

 

“Oh.” Moritz’s eyes flicked around the room for a moment before landing back on Melchior. “I love you,” he said. “I guess I should have told you that by now too.”

 

Melchior had no idea that he could feel this elated. “So, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

 

“You.”

 

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the look of absolute horror that crossed Moritz’s face.

 

“Noooo, that’s not what I meant!” he protested.

 

Melchior just smiled at him. “I love you too.”


End file.
